


Shadows From Light

by OccasionallyIWriteStuff



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Bonding, Conversations at Camp, Gen, Implied Backstories, Ruins, Smoking, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:18:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionallyIWriteStuff/pseuds/OccasionallyIWriteStuff
Summary: Reynauld struggles to relate to the common rabble of the Hamlet at camp in the Ruins. They are not like him. They do not have his purpose and do not follow the Light.Brief character study of the Crusader and how they might view the others and themselves with respect to their mission.





	Shadows From Light

The Ruins were unique in their stillness.

The Warrens never stopped moving. In every moment you could feel the tunnels shifting in response to foreign presence. The air hung heavy with the stench of decay and rotted flesh while the screams of the foul abominations that lived there interrupted hopeful thoughts of safety. Refuse and God knows what else made every step an endeavor.

The Weald hummed with life. The forrest was thick all around and eyes could always be found in the deepest of shadows; watching and waiting for a moment of weakness. Every snap could be a trap. Every crack could be gunshot. Fungal freaks marked only by the unique odor they released hid around every corner. Bandits thirsty for blood and little else ducked between trees at the edge of vision.

The Cove hungered for blood. The stalagmites and stalactites were jaws that slammed shut over helpless prey wandering into its depths. In an instant, everything is wet; as if covered in the saliva of an ancient beast. Tentacles shifted just below the surface of every pool. The gentle scrape of scales on stone could always be heard. Ethereal songs somewhere in the distance, ever close but the source never in sight. A soft pressure at the base of the skull that only faded when the air stopped tasting of salt.

But the Ruins...

They were truly dead.

Nothing moved at the edge of the light. No sounds cut through the air, curdling the blood of heroes. A thin layer of dust rested on everything as wind no longer swept across the stones of the crumbled buildings. The only sign of the inhabitants the occasional spatter of blood or misplaced item.

The dead came for those who had not abandoned the last of their humanity, eager to rend their flesh if only so that they might return to their rest. Empty puppets of the few crazed individuals who lived deep in the darkest parts of the ruins. Moved against their will for unknown purposes.

Perhaps some part of Reynauld pitied them. Maybe some part of him believed that he was providing a mercy by means of his greatsword. Maybe.

Reynauld pulled his helmet off and set it down beside his pack, leaning against the heavy burlap and leather. When had the Hamlet become home? Probably somewhere between the third and tenth time he’d almost died for the Heir’s quest to retake their ancestral home. Death was not something that worried Reynauld but he didn’t know what to make of the pit in his stomach accompanying his thoughts of home. He knew he had no home among the simple folk he’d left back West. They had not fully seen the Light as he had and could not understand the fire under his skin. The satisfaction of a heavy blow landing on a heretic or abomination. It had been painful at the time. A cross of his own to bear. But now it was naught more than something to distract from the mission.

“I didn’t think you had a face under there,” Alis laughed, hat low over her face and arms crossed. “To think we might be blessed with the visage of the mighty Reynauld, Champion of the Hamlet!”

Reynauld pulled at the straps of his gauntlets and boots and freed his hands and feet, ignoring the slight chuckles from both Azor and Dismas. Seemingly encouraged, Alis leaned forward, pushing up her hat slightly so that Reynauld could see the slight curve of her smile.

“Perhaps the good sir might even grace us with some words?” Her tone was questioning but she didn’t hesitate when Reynauld instead continued to pull his armor apart without responding, “No knowledge for those of us with less experience, oh holy knight? No wisdom to impart on our young and nubile minds?”

Azor shifted slightly and adjusted his robes to keep them away from the green flame atop the skull resting next to him. He spoke, accent thick from the desert lands to the South, “There is no need to tease, Alis. We are all equals on this journey.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Alis said, raising her hands in mock defense. “Equal in all manners I’m sure. Save socially, perhaps.”

Reynauld began fiddling with his breastplate before stopping and taking a seat, pulling his sword across his lap and reaching for a whetstone in the corner pocket of his bag. Slowly, he began to drag the stone across the blade. The low rasp of the grinding and weight of the metal on his chest were comforting in a strange way.

Dismas pushed his pack down and leaned back so that he could see the the stars through the gap in the roof above them, gun clattering to the ground as it fell loose from his belt. “I’m not sure we are equal. He has purpose. He has the Light. He is the mighty Reynauld. What are we next to that but accessories for his glory?”

Alis hummed thoughtfully, as if the words truly had weight, “Oh, of course! Pack mules so that when the Heir collects Reynauld will get more praise?”

Dismas grunted in response and Reynauld sighed, placing the whetstone on the ground next to him. He looked across the fire at Alis, unable to catch her eyes beneath the hood, “Is there a purpose to your harassment?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, “He speaks! To think we would be granted such an honor!”

“Alis-” Azor started before Reynauld interrupted.

“Perhaps if you spent more time in the church and less time in the tavern you would have heard me sooner,” his voice was hot but it carried no true fire. It had been a long day of little action and fruitless searching. Just endless scrounging through rubble for lost jewels and deeds.

“Is that supposed to make me feel something, Sir Reynauld?” Alis asked. “Am I supposed to be bothered that instead of listening to some old man drone about a book I’d rather get a good fu-”

Azor coughed, smoke jutting from his mouth as he pulled the pipe he’d just lit away. “Alis, there is no reason to insult Reynauld. He has his beliefs and you have yours.”

“Of course,” Alis said, “Except his beliefs tell him that my beliefs mean I’m going to burn forever to Hell and your beliefs mean you should be killed for being a heretic.”

Tense air filled the camp for but a moment before Dismas spoke, “And yet, he hasn’t brought any of us to the sword.”

“That’s just because he hasn’t had half a reason yet.”

Reynauld glared at the woman across from him, “Is that what you think, graverobber? That if you gave me a single reason I would splatter you across the walls like some sort of beast?” Real anger was starting to spill into his words and his hand curled around the hilt of his blade. White smoke began to curl off the blade as his power seeped into the blade..

“You would try,” Alis hummed. Reynauld followed the roll of her shoulders and noticed the way that her hands seemed to slip to the sheathes at her hips. Reynauld tensed, waiting for the knives. For the blur of motion just before she struck. It would be a tough fight, especially without all his armor. She was slippery and deadly. But weak. All Reynauld had to do was get a single good hit and she’d be done. A single-

Azor coughed again, dark eyes shifting between the two of them, pulling Reynauld from the thoughts he’d slipped so easily into. He took a deep breath, steadying himself and releasing his grip from his blade. He recited a passage from the Holy Book silently to himself:

“ _ Blessed is he who forgives, but tempers such forgiveness with the heat of their anger. But allow not such anger to turn to wrath for then it is only a single step to be fully engulfed by the darkness.” _

“See what I’m talking about?” Alis’ voice cut through the brief meditation. “He was going to kill me.”

Dismas hummed, “I doubt that. He is not stupid enough to be provoked by the insults of a noble child. He would have perished far sooner than now if he was.”

Alis gasped in annoyance and Azor laughed. Reynauld fought back the smile that tried to push through.

“Besides,” Azor said, blowing a smoke ring, “Reynauld could have refused to serve with us when the Heir asked him. And he didn’t. Seems to me that he has no issue serving with a ‘heretic’ and two atheists.”

“And yet he was about to cleave me in half!” Alis cried, flinching at the noise of her own voice which echoed back a moment later.

“A woman who tempts a hungry lion with food should not be surprised when it realizes just how much food is really there,” Azor said.

Reynauld looked at the man, “Do you think that I crave violence?”

Azor shrugged, “From what I have seen, and what I have heard among the tavern rumors, yes. There are few who haven’t heard of the ferocity you display when cleaving through the hordes of evil spilling out of this cursed place. It is only logical to assume you enjoy it considering you haven’t left.”

Reynauld scoffed, “I do not enjoy what I do. I crusade because I must. Because I can bear the weight of the Light and therefore it is my responsibility to wield it as a sword against the darkness. It is not a choice that I make.”

“Not a choice?” Dismas said. “Lifting the responsibility of your actions from your own shoulders?”

“My actions lay across my shoulders as they do for anyone else. I cannot expect you all to understand what it is like to feel the Holy Fire raging in your bones every moment of every day.”

“Can’t you?” Azor interrupted. “I have made a pact with a being beyond comprehension for my abilities. Do you not think that it speaks to me and tempts me constantly as well?”

Reynauld shook his head, “I do not know the entity that you have sworn yourself to but it is nothing compared to the Divine Radiance of God. The responsibilities He brings upon his servants are far greater than any craving you might feel..”

Azor raised his hands in mock defense, “Of course not, I mean no offense.”

Reynauld was about to accept the apology when Alis spoke up, “And He would be okay with you traveling with those such as ourselves? A heretic, a murderer, and a desecrator?” She pointed to Azor, Dismas and herself, her eye ice cold now that Reynauld could see them just beneath the brim of her hat. “You’re a hypocrite, Reynauld.”

“I do not pretend to know the will of God or understand how He works, child.”Reynauld leaned back against his pack from where he’d been sitting forward. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a stale lump of bread and took a bite. It was dry and tasted like ash.

Alis shot forward, almost leaning over the fire, eyes burning with a cool anger, “Do not call me a child.”

“And what else should I call you?” Reynauld sighed. “You clearly know nothing of the world. A noble playing at being a hero or adventurer or whatever you’d call us cursed squalor. You chose this life. No one in their right mind with anything to lose or not serving a greater purpose would choose this.”

“That’s very high and mighty for a man who  _ chooses _ to be an arrogant prick about his religion.”

A chuckle came from Dismas though Azor coughed uncomfortably at the jab. Alis sat back and pulled off her hat, running her hands through her hair and sighing angrily. “I had my lessons when I was younger. I know the Holy Book. How can you claim to be following it and yet you slum with freaks like us? How can you turn a blind eye to the Sins all around you and yet claim you’re God’s sword?”

Tense air passed between them and Reynauld took several deep breaths before he realized his fist was clenched. He released it and rolled his neck, “I do not turn a blind eye. I see the corruption in all of you and have faith.”

Azor took a long drag of his pipe and turned his head in question, “Faith?”

Reynauld finished the drag he was taking off his wineskin, “Yes, faith. I see your Envy, Azor. The way you crave the knowledge this dark place has. The way it tempts the darkest parts of you.”

“And you, Alis. I see your Greed. You crave gold like it is water and the world a desert. You want to spend it because you have it and you want to have it so you can spend it. I have no doubt there is no line you wouldn’t cross for a gem the size of my skull were we to stumble across one.”

“Dismas,” Reynauld turned and he could see the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes thanks to the low firelight, “I know of the Betrayal.”

“I see all of these and I stand by you because God has willed me to be here. Because regardless of the purity of your reasons, you too are standing against the shadows that feed off this place. You could be one of them,” Reynauld pointed out of the building and into the darkness, “But you still have some part of yourself that makes you whole. That makes you better than them for however long. It is not my purpose to try and guide you to something better. I have faith that for the length of this task you shall retain what humanity you have. And if you can’t,” Reynauld’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword, “Then I have faith in myself.”

“You speak of us,” Dismas said, voice low, “But what of yourself?”

“And what of me?”

Alis replied, “If you are to compare us to the Sins, then why not yourself? Why not mention the Wrath? Everyone knows of your lust for battle.” Reynauld shifted in his spot uncomfortably, “How you charge in first. How you always seem to bleed the most and are always inches from death but never seem to falter. Hatred is the only way you stay standing despite it all.” Alis pointed a finger at him. “You’re no better than us.”

Reynauld hummed, “I have no illusion that I am perfect, Alis. I know my faults as well as any.”

“Then why act so high and mighty?”

When Reynauld took too long to respond, Dismas was the one who spoke, “Maybe he can’t help it? Started acting that way then lost himself along the way.”

Azor hummed in agreement, puffing a ring into the fire which flashed a deep purple before returning to its normal color. He looked at his pipe for a moment, frowning before tapping the ash out the end and saying, “He wouldn’t be the first man to have lost himself to something bigger than what he was before.” Azor turned and inclined his head every so slightly before he slouched down, slowly unwrapping his turban. “I can remember a young man many years ago who got lost in some ruins and meddled with something he shouldn’t have. And now he craves knowledge that makes him ever so slightly more mad the more he learns.” Azor placed the cloth of his turban on the ground and laid his head upon it, closing his eyes.

“And I remember,” Dismas said, back already turned to the group, “a young boy too small to work having to steal to feed his mother. One day he realized it was much easier with a knife.”

Reynauld sighed and was about to respond before Alis spoke, “And you know what I remember, knight? I remember being born into an endless web of lies. Of living every moment questioning what was true before realizing that it didn’t matter. That the only one people I could trust were myself and the dead.”

Alis slouched over, sitting at a forty-five degree angle and pulling her hat back down over her face.

“And so you decided to steal from the only friends you had?” Reynauld hazarded.

Alis chuckled lightly, “I like to think that they’re giving me gifts.”

Reynauld didn’t bother to respond as the fire light continued to die and the sounds of his companions sleeping surrounded him. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face, smearing the sweat and grease across the stubble there. In the dim light he could see a single grey hair caught between his fingers.

For his watch he stayed that way, hunched over and staring at the only evidence he couldn’t purge of his long years of mistakes.

* * *

 

The morning came quicker than expected, Reynauld finding some rest despite the thoughts plaguing his mind. Breakfast was eaten in silence and camp disassembled with haste. The others were waiting for Reynauld to finish donning his armor, pointedly staring away from him the entire time when he sighed heavily and turned to them, holding his helmet in his hands.

“I am sorry about the things I said last night. I am not perfect and in truth I am no better than any one of you, even if I wish to think it of myself. To bring that anger upon all of you was uncalled for.”

The three looked at each other, Azor’s eyebrows raised and both Dismas and Alis’ expressions unreadable. Satisfied, Reynauld placed his helmet on and adjusted the sheath of his greatsword so that the tip was only just above the stones.

He stepped forward, ahead of them all and out of the stones of the building, taking no more than a few steps before the husks of bones at his feet shifting and pulling themselves together. A knot pulled at Reynauld’s chest as the shadows began stitching the bones together and he drew his sword. Light gleamed off the blade despite the light of the sun seeming to fade.

Reynauld didn’t bother to look back to see if the others were with him. If they weren’t he would perish. And if they were, there was no doubt that they would crush these foul beasts..

The rest of the campaign into the Ruins was brief but fruitful as the group found a hidden stash of gems. Blood was nearly spilled as Azor was pushed his to limit thanks to a pair of ambitious gargoyles. Luckily, both Dismas and Reynauld had been able to pull the beasts off him as Alis distracted the raving ghoul commanding them.

The meeting with the Heir to report the success of their mission was simple and they thanked the group for their bravery, claiming that the group could be called together again very soon but for now they were all on leave.

Exiting the shadowy manor that the Heir resided in, Reynauld watched as his companions turned towards the tavern, noise already emanating from the building despite the sun high overheard. He hesitated for a moment, turning to the temple just barely visible down the road.

Something twisted in his chest before he stepped forward and joined the other three, “Perhaps the first round can be on me?”

Azor blinked in surprise and though he couldn’t see, Reynauld could tell Dismas was smiling ever so slightly. But it was Alis who broke the silence, flinging her arms around Reynauld and Dismas’ necks, smiling “I’ll make sure you regret that offer.”

And maybe it how tired he was.

Or the relief from surviving yet another day in this cursed place.

But Reynauld smiled.

And it was genuine.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
